


Lifetime Achievement Award

by luxuriantegg



Series: my my what a spirited phone! [2]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, Eddie has a Victor Frankenstein complex, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Period Typical Attitudes, Smoking, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24932413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxuriantegg/pseuds/luxuriantegg
Summary: In which Eddie brings Richie back to life in order to win a made-up award.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: my my what a spirited phone! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804438
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Lifetime Achievement Award

**Author's Note:**

> so much........ research... ಥ_ಥ and so many.... anachronisms... _(also i accidentally posted this at 10PM oops)_
> 
> of course i would actually start writing on this series the moment the It fandom starts to decline haha. really fitting considering Lifetime Achievement Award is about... well, coming back to a fandom in decline. i didnt mean for it to happen that way, its just that LAA is the first song on the album. (i will be breaking this pattern a lot tho bc most of the songs dont have good enough material to last a >10K fic and Touch-Tone Telephone has to come absolutely last for... reasons)
> 
> also for some reason theres a lot of moments when i can only picture 1990s Reddie? but any version works bc its not canon compliant (besides the mention of glasses and the end art ig)  
>   
> anyway thank u to my friend em who helped me figure out an ending for this thing lmao pls leave a kudos if u enjoyed this mess of a plot haha  
> 

_"Die hard fans adored your hands _   
_ They loved your throat and quote unquote "you" _   
_ Hey, remember Michael Jackson. Michael Jackson really happened _   
_ Delta Echo Alpha Delta, walking on the moon forever _

  
_ You are dead and buried, you are dead (Oh no) _   
_ That's being revised! _   
_ Even as we speak we're synthesizing blood and organs _   
_ Synthesizing heart and soul _   
_ Even Katy Perry knows you're dead (Oh no) _   
_ Won't she be surprised! _   
_ When we get your heart to start tomorrow _   
_ When you see the chart tomorrow you'll be number one _

  
_ Bro, you look amazing _   
_ Really put together _   
_ It's like you haven't aged a day, oh _   
_ It's like we know what we're doing or something _

  
_ You've been gone for way too long, like half a year _   
_ An entire career for some _   
_ Good luck getting into Heaven if you live past 27 _   
_ Listen to the radiation put you back in circulation _

  
_ You are dead and buried, you are dead (Oh no) _   
_ Oh, but you never died! _   
_ Even as we speak we're synthesizing blood and organs _   
_ Synthesizing heart and soul _   
_ Ain't no cemetary you can't shed (Oh no) _   
_ Ain't nowhere you can hide! _   
_ Don't be frightened of us _   
_ Soon enough you're gonna love us, just remember _

  
_ This is your last ride ever, forever _   
_ Fill up your lungs, feel better _   
_ Look, it's you, good as new _   
_ New hands, new throat, new living tissue _   
_ You earned this new purpose _   
_ Lifetime achievement award _

  
_ Don't be nervous baby _   
_ We put a billion eyes back on you _   
_ From the grave to the stage _   
_ You're a natural, babe! _

  
_ You are dead and buried, you are dead (Oh no) _   
_ That's being revised! _   
_ Even as we speak we're synthesizing blood and organs _   
_ Synthesizing heart and soul _   
_ Even Katy Perry knows you're dead (Oh no) _   
_ Won't she be surprised! _   
_ When we get your heart to start tomorrow _   
_ When you see the chart tomorrow you'll be number one _   
_ (Oh no, oh no)" _

_ —Lifetime Achievement Award, Lemon Demon _

🎙️

He didn’t realize how long it had been. 

Eddie missed sitting in the crowd. Oh how he missed it. Cigarette in hand. For his asthma. Flicking ashes into the tray. Hanging out in a speakeasy. His mother wouldn’t have liked it, but damnit, it had to be one of the best pleasures in the world.

Derry’s hottest club, The Eager Beaver, attracted many a patron. The Eager Beaver had no shortage of the everyman. Divorcées, overworked bankers, students... anyone who was anyone attended. Not for the lazy scene the club provided. No, of course those boozed-up crimelords had gotten themselves involved. 

So everyone gathered round for a couple rounds of shots and good laughs. Everyone including the secret society Eddie found himself in.

Deus College’s Society of Apollos wasn’t very hard to get into in Eddie’s opinion. They only had five members. Eddie chalked the number up to a desire for exclusion as opposed to selectivity. He already knew Bill from his school days, and the group formed freshman year in college.

Wasn’t like they did anything anyway. They sat and talked around the common room fireplace. If they were in the mood to get juiced, they’d go down to the Eager Beaver. They sat in the same corner at the very right edge of the stage. They’d talk, and talk, and drink, and talk some more. 

Not about anything. Just their studies, the current events. Eddie tended to tune it all out. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy Bill blathering on about his latest published book review. Or Ben talking about his night job at the port, miles from the college, miles from Derry. Or Mike with the _Derry Herald_ trying to keep up with Beverly in debate over anything. Everything.

No, Eddie simply preferred the sound of the big band that played at The Eager Beaver. Not because of the band itself, but because of the man who talked over them. The staff gave him the microphone, and boy did he use it.

The stage was like Richie Tozier’s personal gossip corner. He was a messy haired, cheeky bastard in a aqua pinstripe suit. They said all the world’s a stage, but Richie took the opposite approach. It seemed to him that the stage was all the world. No one could free themselves from his comedy routine. He sought laughter from the most morbid and uncouth of jokes. Didn’t matter to him. A laugh was a laugh was a laugh. Whoever cared about hurt feelings anyway?

Watching Richie move across the stage like a swan gliding across the water became intoxicating. He looked so natural, so in his element. He had a glimmering countenance and glossy hair that reflected what little spotlight shone down on him. As he talked, he became even more animated, getting into his routine. His hands moved a mile a minute as did his tongue.

Oh, it infuriated Eddie to hear him paint so many people with so many scarlet letters. But oh, it exhilarated him to listen to that sharp silver tongue go to work. Eddie was sure he could pawn it at a shop, and it would be worth more than any other silver object in the whole joint. Not that he’d ever pawn it if that were an option. Eddie wondered if anyone else had caught onto his value? Probably not.

But who would ever come to an old speakeasy and expect a wholesome and upstanding gentleman at the microphone? All The Eager Beaver was good for was mediocre lighting and even more mediocre drinks. Any patron was lucky to get some (hopefully) mediocre entertainment. 

If not, oh well. Besides Eddie, the Apollos tended to focus on themselves when they came anyway. Smoke a couple. Drink a few. Talk forever, and ever, and ever. 

“What’s the paper say today?” Beverly inquired.

Eddie took a drag. _And ever_.

“There’s some reports on grave robberies here in Derry. They’re blaming it on some cult that just cropped up,” Mike said behind the _Herald_.

“I thought the whole cult thing was about goats and blood,” Beverly said. 

“Guess all that’s in short s-supply. Seems they’ll take anything they can get these days. I say we let ‘em,” Bill chimed in.

Beverly leaned into the table, holding her cigarette out to the side. “ _‘Let them?’_ I don’t understand why you would want your grave defiled. You’re supposed to rest in peace, you know.”

“I’ll be dead, Bev,” Bill said with a cheeky grin. He shrugged and took a shot of gin. “Not like I’ll kn-know anything about it.”

“Still, it’s disrespectful.” Beverly huffed. “Eddie, don’t you agree with me? Eddie — “

Mike folded the paper with a laugh, setting it on the table. He crossed his arms and leaned back. “If you think you’re gonna have Eddie on your side, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Bev. His eyes are on Trashmouth up there. I doubt Eddie even hears us.”

“Trashmouth’s up there?” Bill peeked over his shoulder. “Hadn’t even n-n-noticed him.”

“You will when you see shot glasses flying at the stage!” Mike slapped the back of Bill’s shoulder playfully. 

“You know, I did like his impression of that stuck-up barista. I think he’s ahead of his time,” Beverly admitted.

Ben shook Eddie out of his stupor. “If you stare any harder, you’ll petrify him.” 

Eddie brushed Ben’s hand away from his shoulder. “Come on — he’s only saying what we’re all thinking. Everybody’s an asshole. At least he’s got the nerve to point it out.”

“If anyone’s an a-asshole, it’s him. He dragged my review of Mrs. Dalloway through the m-mud. Said I was just blowing hot air,” Bill complained.

“You were,” Beverly muttered with a quick hand wave. 

“I don’t think he’s unaware that he’s just as much of an asshole as everybody else,” Eddie defended him. 

“You all know who he is, don’t you?” Mike asked a relatively silent table. He rolled his eyes and returned to his paper.

When all the table’s eyes bore through his paper at him, Mike continued, “Dean Wentworth Tozier’s kid? Dropped out of Deus and ended up here? I’d wager he was too tone-deaf to croon. So, now he makes everybody wish they were deaf on all accounts. Blind too, for that matter,” he said, eyeing Richie’s suit.

“He’s got rugged good looks,” Beverly chuckled. 

“You think so?” Ben asked anxiously. 

Beverly shot him a hooded look.

“I never made the connection,” Eddie murmured. “About the Dean, I mean. Not the other thing,” he clarified, but wasn’t sure why.

“Well, who’s he talking about th-this time anyway?” Bill groused.

Finally the whole of the Apollos gave him their full and undivided attention. Eddie slouched in his seat. He watched the smoke twisting upward from his cigarette. If only the lord could be quicker in taking him.

Richie made his way to the pianist, who Eddie had come to know as Stan from Richie’s other routines. Richie leaned against the piano’s side, twirling the microphone cord with his left index.

“Stanley — Stanorino — Stanorama — Stan the man, how goes the day?” Richie greeted him. He tilted his microphone downward.

“Same old, same old,” Stan said with a smirk of hidden cheer.

“Good, good,” Richie said, righting the microphone and pushing off against the piano. Off to his waltz. “Glad we’re on the same page. It does feel like the same old day, doesn’t it?”

Bill elbowed Mike annoyingly. “H-hey — Mikey — Mikorino — Miko — “

Mike gently swatted Bill’s hand with the rolled paper. 

“You know, I wonder what makes this place always feel like the same old-same old. Maybe it’s the never ending extortion!” Richie exclaimed. He paused for laughter, scattered as it was. “Maybe it’s the extortion... or maybe it’s all the bullies in the world getting you down and never letting up. They say bullies go away after you become an adult. It’s a lie. A bold-faced lie. Now, I remember my first encounter with Henry Bowers...”

“God help him,” Ben shook his head. 

Even Eddie tensed slightly. Bowers? The big boss of the speakeasy itself? Seemed like a pretty low bar to duck under. 

“I caught him and his boys in the middle of a liquor run. Honest accident. But, I remember thinking... okay, this guy’s got connections. We were both Deus dropouts. Unlike me, he had power to back up his money. Unlike him, I had actual talent.” He gave a quick flick of his brows to increase the laughter. 

“So, naturally we get to talking. I set up my routine here at this joint. He pays off my tab. Don’t you all wish you could get up here and make fun of people for a cleared tab?” Richie paused for the murmurs of agreement. “And I thought that would be the end all be-all. I had it good. Really, I did.

“Of course there had to be a catch. You know there’s always a catch to these things. The best of things have a catch...” Richie paused to raise a brow at the audience. “So the catch. Bowers finds out I’ve been seen with somebody he doesn’t want me to be seen with. All of a sudden, that’s terms to put everything back on my tab. Can you imagine owing a hundred dollars in illegal liquor ‘cause you got spotted with somebody? Not even somebody important.” 

Richie glared somewhere out in the audience. “Or easy on the eyes, for that matter.” He smirked and reveled in the snide laughter and “oohs” emanating from the audience. 

In his waltz of one, Richie stepped across the stage and crouched down close to the Apollos’ table. “Can you imagine?” he emphasized every word, looking Eddie dead in the eyes. 

For a minute, Eddie felt his heart might stop. The others gave him furtive glances as Richie maintained his stoop.

“Anyway,” Richie muttered quickly, running off to the other end of the stage. 

Eddie leaned his head back and breathed a sigh of relief. Could he see his heart beating out of his chest? Could he see the bead of sweat forming at his temple? Oh god, he hoped not.

“So obviously I protested. How did I protest? I called in sick. Had Stan pass on the message for me. Because... I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but I don’t exactly have a hundred dollars in my pockets.” Richie made a show of pulling his pockets outward. A couple pennies and a key fell out. He stopped to pick them up. “I wish this were a hundred dollars,” he muttered.

A cacophony of laughter rang out in the speakeasy. Eddie thought he heard the scraping of chair legs against the ground.

“Without a hundred dollars,” Richie continued grimly, “I felt hopeless. Sure, I could work it off, doing what I’m doing until I’m dead. Or...” He paused and shrugged. “Well, that’s all I can do. Might as well have some fun while I’m indebted.” He smiled earnestly at the laughter that came from that one. 

“Can you imagine?” Richie repeated to Stan, who glanced away, confining his emotions to the minor keys. 

“You’re a dead man, Trashmouth!” 

Richie whipped around and ducked just in time, eyes affixed upward on a glass which soared over his head. It smashed on the saxophone behind him.

He tugged at his collar and shrugged it off. “I’ll be here all night.”

🎙️

  
But that was six months ago. Nobody had heard from Richie Tozier since that night. Eddie feared the worst.

His fears came into being when the _Derry Herald_ reported a gruesome death. While the culprits remained unknown, it was easy to surmise how the event had transpired.

Six months after the fact, it happened to be a stormy night that kept everyone in the common room after midnight. Beverly and Ben huddled together on the couch. Mike leaned on the fireplace mantle. Bill paced the floor, eyes darting back and forth between the rococo carpet and Eddie in the far corner. 

Between the paintings of Deus College’s dead and brightest and the literal skeleton next to the fireplace, Eddie couldn’t help but feel surrounded by death in the common room.

A week after Richie’s death, Eddie resolved to stay in the common area. He didn’t drink. No point in going to the speakeasy with the rest of the Apollos anymore. 

Now, after months, it took the call of class or basic human needs to pull him from the seat far from the firelight, hidden in the cold shadows of the moonless night. 

“We have to do something,” Beverly said to a passing Bill. “It’s October. He’s been like this since April,” she said, trying to catch Bill as he passed her again.

“I’m thi-thin-thinking,” Bill mumbled. He stopped and ran his hands through his hair. “Damnit.”

Mike sighed. “Bill, clearly something’s going on under the hood, and he’s not spilling anytime soon.”

“I know Eddie. He’s just in a weird jam. That’s... that’s all,” Bill said.

“What if he starts wasting away over there? And ends up like Hockstetter?” Ben fretted.

Mike turned to the skeleton on display. “I thought this was fake. You’re telling me this used to be a student?”

Ben nodded grimly. 

Eddie quietly rapped a semblance of a swanky piano number on the end table. He pressed his palms into his eye sockets. He couldn’t do anything without reminding himself of Stan, or The Eager Beaver, or — most prevalent in his mind — Richie. 

He replayed it over and over in his mind every day — the last day he saw Richie. Eddie remembered seeing those big, sparkling eyes, full of pride and bravery. Full of mirth and high self-esteem. That smirk that gave Eddie the false sense of security that... maybe, just maybe... everything would be okay. Everything would be just fine. No one would die on account of a harmless joke. 

And maybe... just maybe... Eddie would finally work up the nerve to ask him to grab a couple shots.

Damnit. Eddie wiped at his eye with the back of his hand. If only he could’ve just gotten booed off the stage. If only they’d told him to scram after that last performance. If only they’d just let him live. If only, if only, if only.

Not that Eddie suspected murder. Except, well, yes. He did. But he didn’t have all the facts yet. 

If he was right though, Bowers was looking to take a big sleep. Eddie just wished he had the gumption to bump the man off. Nonetheless, he’d been in the market for hired help for a while. No one was biting the hook of the promise of future doctor money. 

Bill plopped down on the couch. He engaged in a staring contest with Mike. Neither of them had a clue as to what was going on. Not really. They might’ve had an inkling, but they likely disregarded it on account of well... no. It wasn’t possible. Even if it was obvious to everyone in the room.

“What does Eddie like?” Mike asked. 

“Medicine and being r-right,” Bill answered quickly. 

Eddie furrowed his brow. He wondered when they’d figure out he wasn’t sitting in a soundless fugue. 

“We could revive an old tradition. That way Eddie has to participate,” Ben offered up.

“Like what? The cult stuff?” Beverly asked.

“No.” Ben squirmed in his seat. “And I told you to keep that under wraps anyway.”

“What if he’s into cult stuff?” Beverly posed earnestly.

“I’m not into cult stuff!” Eddie yelled from across the room.

The others took in his sullen countenance staring at them for a moment. Then, they went back to their discussion as if it had never been interrupted.

Eddie laid his forehead down on the table. If only this could all be some terrible nightmare.

🎙️

  
Although his anatomy class had long been dismissed, Eddie stayed behind to catch up on the notes he’d slept through. He scribbled the diagram of the nervous system down in his notebook. He stopped only when his pencil’s graphite broke off from the strength of the press. He leaned back and sighed. 

In absence of other students, Beverly rushed in, holding a piece of paper. Eddie barely noticed her, having directed his attention at the ceiling.

“I’m all for women in the science department, Bev, but if they catch you — “ 

“I’ll get laughed out, I know, I know. Listen, Eddie, we’ve decided to bring back the Lifetime Achievement Contest,” she said, thrusting the paper in his face.

It said:

> **Lifetime Achievement Contest.**
> 
> Contest by the Society of the Apollos
> 
> Judged by Hockstetter
> 
> _(who is definitely not a real skeleton)_
> 
> Winner receives grand prize of the Lifetime Achievement Award

Eddie tapped his forehead with his pencil. “I’ve never heard of this award. Is it like a Nobel?”

Beverly folded the paper up and tucked it into the band of her hat. “It’s entirely our society. Whoever makes the biggest breakthrough in their major by the end of the year gets the Lifetime Achievement Award. Ben’s going over to the hock shop to get the actual award today.”

With a groan, Eddie set his sights on the ceiling again. “What makes you think I’m in any sort of mood to — “

“Please, Eddie. I think it could be good for you,” Beverly begged.

“No award is going to bring back Rich — “ Eddie caught himself with wide eyes. He cleared his throat and stood from his seat.

“What?” Beverly asked quietly.

“Sorry — I...” Eddie tried to find the words, but only found awkward silence. Finally he decided on, “I have to go.”

He gathered his books and made a steady pace toward the door, only speeding into the hall once Beverly moved. She remained at the edge of the door.

“So will you do it? Eddie? Eddie!” she called out to him. 

But to no avail.

🎙️

  
Fog set in about the time Eddie’s classes ended. A haze always hung over Derry, but this one felt pushy. If fog could have emotions, this one felt pushy for sure. Just real tetchy. About something. Eddie wasn’t sure what.

He’d been thinking for a while. Since Beverly brought up the contest, Eddie found himself pacing around his dorm room. He stopped himself. It was such a Bill thing to do. Always the planner, Bill was. Eddie didn’t plan. He only reacted. 

It was a harebrained idea to be sure, but Eddie didn’t plan. He pressed his forehead against a random place on his bookshelf. His eyes just so happened to open on Mary Shelley’s _The Modern Prometheus_ — better known as _Frankenstein_. 

Eddie didn’t plan, but he made an exception now. With the Lifetime Achievement Award, he had an excuse, and with _Frankenstein_ , he had the idea. 

He was going to bring Richie Tozier back to life.

🎙️

  
First, he needed a car. The only one in the group who had one was Ben. He used it to get to his port job. He never actually told anyone what the job was, but everyone assumed customs. Even when he returned more scuffed up than a job in customs likely entailed, they found it easier to shrug it off as... well, customs.

At any rate, he surely had a day off. On that day off, Eddie decided he would pounce. He’d get his hands on that Nash Touring yet. 

A day after his epiphany, Eddie managed to catch Ben leaving history class with Mike. He took Ben by the arm and pulled him to an uninhabited corner of the hall. Mike turned around for a moment. With a hand wave from Ben, he continued walking to his next class.

Now facing Eddie, Ben crossed his arms expectantly. When neither spoke for a few moments, Eddie realized he’d begun to stare. He tried to find the words for his request. 

_Hey, can I have your car? Oh, why? No reason. Just. Digging up a dead body. It’s nothing doing, really. Don’t worry, I’ll return it in the morning. Free of dead body smell, of course._

“Eddie — “

“Do you wanna help me dig up a dead body?” Eddie blurted out. He kept as neutral of a face as possible despite kicking himself on the inside.

Scratching his temple, Ben glanced nervously to his right. “That’s really funny, Eddie,” he said measuredly. “Really funny.”

“I’m serious,” Eddie insisted.

“You didn’t kill somebody, did you? Is that what you’ve been in such a ditch about?” Ben fretted.

“What? No.” Eddie sighed, turning his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t kill anyone. It’s more like... someone important to me got killed.”

Ben’s eyebrows drew upward. “Oh god. I’m sorry. I– I didn’t know. We didn’t — “

Eddie fanned his hands downward. “It’s fine. Listen, Ben, I really only need your car to transport it.” Where to? He hadn’t planned that far ahead.

“Eddie, you know it’s illegal to dig up a dead body, right?” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let alone whisk it away to god knows where.”

Of course he knew that was illegal. What the hell kind of question was that? God strike him down now if doing something illegal was a crime. Wait.

“Yeah. I know it’s illegal. But this is for science. The scientific breakthrough. The Lifetime Achievement Award and all that,” he said quickly, tossing his hands about with every word. 

“You’re sure it’s for science? Or... something else?”

“What else would there be?”

Ben shrugged. “I dunno. Weird... things... like, dead body things... and living body things... happening at the same time.”

Eddie facepalmed. When the absurdity of the statement finally left him, he held a shaking hand in front of his still cringing face. “You can’t even _begin_ to fathom how many diseases and other health problems that kinda romp in the weeds would entail. There’s not _enough_ time in the day to sterilize a whole cadaver inside and out like that. I mean, no matter if you were going for the oral cavity or the posterior — I — I don’t fancy a bump in the car with the _zotzed_ , okay?” 

“Well, you can’t blame me for assuming. You said she was important to you,” Ben uttered defensively.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, “he was.”

Ben’s lips became a line. His countenance was more stony than usual. Eddie couldn’t tell what emotion was going on behind the poker face he gave ever, no less now. “Oh,” he said after some time.

Eddie pulled at his tie. “Honestly, Ben, I just need your car,” he said exasperatedly.

“I dunno, Eddie. This is highly illegal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Like, illegal with a capital ‘I’,” Ben emphasized.

“Mmhm.”

“What if people think we’re in that weird cult? The Derry populace is starting to get freaked out about them,” Ben noted.

“There’s no ‘we’ in this. I just want to borrow your car. I’ll bleach it down, don’t worry. There’s no blood on your hands. Or... your seats, I suppose,” Eddie chuckled slightly.

“Eddie, if you think I’m gonna let you do this by yourself after you’ve been in that fog so long — “

“Don’t treat me like I was just numb,” Eddie spat.

“Was this guy your boyfriend?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He unclenched his fists. He didn’t realize they’d been clenched until now. 

Ben shoved his hands in his pockets and looked elsewhere. “Just promise me you’ll be safe about it,” he sighed.

“I promise.”

Ben nodded and took a step back. “I’m off on Sunday. I’ll bring you the keys then.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said sincerely.

“You can thank me when you make your scientific breakthrough,” Ben replied as he walked down the hall. Casually. Like nothing about this _really_ fazed him.

Class had long since started. Eddie figured he might as well finish out the day. When night called, he’d answer. But for now, there was an anatomy class with his name on it. And a professor with a brain to pick, for that matter. 

🎙️

  
With starless night firmly blanketing Derry, Eddie set off on his mission — for science. 

Eddie rarely went into Derry proper even before Richie’s untimely disappearance. Something about the unending stares of older adults. That and the creeping feeling that nothing was ever as it seemed.

Everybody who didn’t have their heads firmly planted up their posterior cavity knew about Derry’s criminal undercurrent. Of course there were the underground mob bosses sneaking in the liquor through the ports just outside Derry. They had an above ground counterpart too. 

Anybody in a pinstripe suit was asking for a nervous side eye in Eddie’s opinion. Even being in the Nash, Eddie could still feel the anxiety of passing them by. They could pitch a knife at a tire or shoot someone through the windshield with expert precision.

Or at least, that’s what his mother always said. He had no reason to distrust her. Although, he’d never actually witnessed a scuffle like that. 

The Nash creeped through the streets of Derry. The trip from the college went at five miles per hour. Eddie wouldn’t dare put himself in danger of a car accident. They were right gruesome, he’d heard.

Finding the graveyard was easy enough. After spilling his guts pre-borrowing of the car, Ben clued Eddie into the burial site he was looking for. Eddie swore Ben had a city plan under his eyelids. He managed to pinpoint what Eddie was looking for down to the graveyard just off the main road.

Vetch and fireweed peppered either side of the dirt road Eddie soon found himself on. A dread enveloped his chest, squeezing tight as he approached the graveyard. As if some pinstriped mafia man would leap out of the weeds. Or some undead vampire would swoop down from the trees. Or a tsunami of spiders would overtake the Nash. It was all silly conjecture of the mind.

Damnit. Why was he putting himself through this? He didn’t even know the guy. But it hurt so much to think about everything he wanted to say. Everything he _would_ say, he reminded himself. 

Finally, he reached the entrance. Eddie parked the Nash just outside the arching gate. He grabbed the shovel from the backseat. A stiff breeze ran through him. He swallowed his fear and trudged into the graveyard.

He didn’t factor in the idea that graves weren’t organized in alphabetical order. He hadn’t been to one since being a child and attending George Denbrough’s funeral. Eddie wondered if his breakthrough could help Bill too.

Well, one step at a time, he reminded himself.

Thankfully, Richie’s grave was ornamented by a tall, curly-haired boy standing over it. He held his thumbs at the bottom of his suspenders.

Eddie thought he recognized him. _Stan? Stanorino? Stanorama?_ No. Eddie sighed. It was probably just Stan.

Stan noticed Eddie’s hesitant approach. He regarded him with a cold stare. Then, he turned his attention back to the grave.

“If you’re one of Bowers’ boys, I’d ask you to reconsider.” Stan pushed his glasses up on his face. “But I know he’s got a quota,” he said resignedly. 

Eddie shook his head. “No, I’m not with Bowers. I’m not here for you anyway.”

“As far as I know, Richie didn’t have friends outside The Eager Beaver.”

“No, I’m... I’m just an admirer,” he admitted. 

He set the shovel down at his feet and stepped over it. Stan made room for him. 

The headstone was simple enough.

**Richard Tozier**   
**Son of Wentworth and Maggie Tozier**   
**1906-1928**

Eddie bit his lip. If Richie hadn’t dropped out, they could’ve been friends. Maybe even roommates. Funny how life’s roads split off at the wrong times.

“They didn’t even have the decency to make it clean, you know.” 

Eddie looked up at Stan, who stared blankly down at the grave.

“I’ve never seen someone in so many parts. It was a closed casket of course, but...” Stan lost the words and shook his head. “I’ll never forget it. I mean — they did it right in front of the band and everything...” 

“Like a warning?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, to be sure. You can talk about Bowers, but you can’t talk about his family like that.”

“Who was he talking about that night? Bowers’ sister?”

“Bowers didn’t have any siblings. He caught Richie making out with his cousin on a liquor run. I mean, we always suspected something between those two, but no one ever said anything. That is, until Bowers stormed into the joint, dragging Richie with him by the lapel. Had a knife under his chin and everything. And Richie wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Begged him to do anything fucking else. So, Bowers took away the tab, and Richie realized he hated being a puppet more than death. He spoke up. And here he is now.”

“Damn,” was all Eddie could muster. 

He pulled a pack of smokes and a lighter from his pocket. He offered one to Stan, and he accepted. 

Smoke filed out from between Stan’s lips. He coughed slightly. “These are the worst fucking cigarettes I’ve ever smoked,” he hacked.

“Sorry, they’re for my asthma,” Eddie mumbled.

Stan continued to smoke his anyway, shrugging off the explanation. “Honestly, I don’t know what you saw in him. Don’t get me wrong, he was a great guy. But you couldn’t have possibly known that given his comedy routine.”

“Guess I’m just good at reading people,” Eddie excused himself. 

“Sure.” 

They stood and smoked awhile. After half a cigarette, Eddie picked up the shovel and went to work. Stan stood by, unquestioningly watching. 

With an extra set of arms, they managed to cart the casket to the car at a good pace. 

Stan put his cigarette out on the street. He stared down at the scattered ashes. “I’m pretty good at reading people myself. I figure you’re in that cult, huh?”

Well, there went that reading. Eddie nodded along anyway. Better than explaining his actual idea.

“If you take care of him, I’ll take care of this,” Stan said, nodding toward the graveyard where they’d left the shovel. 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Eddie murmured.

“You can start by taking these off my hands.” 

He produced a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket. They were taped in the middle. Eddie took them carefully. 

Stan began to head back, but stopped. “You know, I remember you now. Even when everyone was caught up in conversation, your eyes were on him. I think his were on you too.” Stan looked over his shoulder with a sad smile. “Thanks for always coming.”

🎙️

  
“You got a place to stash dead bodies?” 

Ben released the hair in his hands, dropping his arms to his sides. He bit the side of his lip, at a loss for words. Then, he covered his mouth with his hand, scratching his beard as he did so. He fidgeted enough for Eddie to start doing so himself in the awkward silence.

“Okay.” Ben nodded. “Okay.” He turned around and clutched the sides of his hair. 

“Ben?” Eddie questioned.

“This is fine... This is fine.”

“Ben, if anyone should be panicking, it’s me. I mean, I realize how fucked up this is — “

“Everything is fine!” Ben shouted up at the sky.

Eddie pursed his lips. “Okay. You get everything out of your system. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“No, I... I think I’m good.” Ben placed a hand over his forehead and eye. “I actually... I might know a place at the port.”

🎙️

  
The port remained nameless in Eddie’s mind. Ben never mentioned it. Just called it the “port” or the “port town.” They took a backroad into the town, missing whatever welcome sign the town might’ve had. 

They drove through the relatively empty streets until they reached the shipyard. Ben parked the car next to a small white brick hovel with a blue roof. It looked to be abandoned. No one was home at least.

With a slight flair, Ben opened the door. Eddie peeked in, brow furrowed. There were no lights, but he wasn’t really sure what he expected of the shack. 

Seeing no reason not to, Eddie lit a cigarette. Ben held his hand out. Eddie held out the cigarette box, and Ben took the matchbox instead. He hurried to a pitch black corner and lit a lantern.

Now the contents of the hovel came into an amber glow. A large table sat in the middle of the room with a few chairs around it. In the very back was a stout bookshelf without a single speck of dust on it. 

“The boys let me use this shack to take a break from work. I usually just read, but I like to nurse a bottle of scotch every now and then,” Ben explained.

“What exactly do you do?” Eddie asked.

“It’s not important,” Ben handwaved. “Anyway, how do you like the setup?”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “Well, I’ll need to set up a lightning rod and a wiring system out of the window there to the right. The chairs I could do away with. And, I’ll probably need some odor deterrent and a mop.”

“No one around here cares about that kind of thing, trust me. We usually jump in the Atlantic there to wash off the blood, and... uh...” Ben licked his lips. “Um... you didn’t hear that.”

“What’d you say?” Eddie quirked a brow.

“I said you didn’t hear that — oh. Right.”

“Right, so what’s this place even called?” Eddie asked, making his way to the bookshelf. History books, almanacs, and atlases lined the shelves. 

“Port Town,” Ben answered.

“Oh, I just assumed it had a name other than.”

Ben took a seat in one of the chairs. He kicked his feet up on the table. “Most assume, yeah. Nobody ever thinks to map it. Makes my job easy.” 

Eddie chuckled over his shoulder. “Your secret job.”

“My secret job,” Ben agreed. “You wouldn’t mention this to anyone, would you?”

“You know Beverly would have a field day over the ethics,” Eddie noted. He pulled out one of the almanacs. “God knows I would’ve if I weren’t the one in the situation.”

All inhibitions aside, Eddie did wonder if what he was doing was the right thing to do. Would he want to be brought back to life after an untimely death? Maybe. It depended on how good of a job the necromancer could do. Eddie had faith in himself as an anatomy student. As a necromancer though, he wasn’t so sure.

If all went well, Eddie would be chatting Richie up in no time. He’d tell him everything he ever wanted to tell him. When he’d work up the nerve. When he’d finally confess his crush on the comedian. 

Eddie felt himself blush. He buried his cheeks in the pages of the almanac and hoped Ben hadn’t been looking at him. 

He’d never thought about it as a crush, but it all made sense now. It wasn’t like he’d ever chased skirts like Bill and Mike. 

Probably wasn’t best to talk about it. Nobody seemed to suspect. Even Ben appeared largely unaware, chalking the situation up to a fan and celebrity situation.

This was the cherry on top of the already pretty large secret sundae. He didn’t think he’d be dragged anywhere by his lapels anytime soon if the secret got out. It was the least of Eddie’s worries, but... it was a worry nonetheless. 

🎙️

  
His worries subsided as more and more time passed. The plan became more fleshed out. Finally, Eddie felt like he had a handle on it. With a few “borrowed” instruments from the college, Eddie went to work on reconstruction.  
  
With only a quiet radio to keep himself company, Eddie often spoke to himself. Usually words of assurance. He wasn’t exactly sure who he was reassuring though. 

Ben came and went. He excused himself as squeamish. Eddie believed him. He walked in on Eddie shoving intestines back into the abdominal cavity. Ben didn’t stay more than a minute after that. 

Eddie was thankful for the space. It gave him room to think more than anything. He rarely took breaks. His anxiety ran higher than ever. He found himself looking over his shoulder more and more.

Who was he looking for? The police? Bowers? The Tozier’s? Was he looking for the rest of the society to look upon him like he was a madman? He didn’t know. Didn’t _want_ to know. The fear started to become slightly reassuring that he hadn’t lost his mind to the hubris of it all.

The day of the storm finally came. The Derry Almanac predicted a loud beginning to March. Sure, there were storms before, but Eddie needed time to perfect the form before he could hammer nails into it. March seemed the perfect deadline. At least he wouldn’t be driving home a newly reconstructed man in a blizzard. 

Eddie set the nails within the suture below the chin. He placed a clamp on each. The wires trailed out of the window and wrapped around the makeshift lightning rod just outside. He waited in the corner by the door for the lightning to strike.

The ocean threatened to topple the mountain of work Eddie had created. The rush of waves became louder than the thunder at times. Ben, dressed in a heavy raincoat, darted in to check on Eddie. Seeing his friend in the fetal position relieved him somewhat. He left and returned with a bottle of scotch. They rode out the wave of anticipation together. 

Then came the spark of life.

It was horrific, and it was beautiful. 

To see a body spasming beneath a white cloth wasn’t on Eddie’s bucket list. Yet, the strained yell from beneath it gave him a strange affirmation.

The hovel was bathed in a bright white light as an ungodly amount of electricity flowed through the wires. The body became a shadow, writhing and screaming back to life. Ben rushed forward as if to save him. Eddie reached up to grab him by the arm. The man had already been saved. No need to play hero anymore.

Unceremoniously, it ended. The cloth moved up and down with the man’s ragged breath. Ben and Eddie exchanged a long look which resulted in Ben leaving.

Eddie made a steadfast approach. This was everything he’d been waiting for and more. God, he didn’t think it would ever work. It was magnificent. 

A hand reached out from beneath the cloth, groping around for something. Eddie bit his lip in trepidation. Then, he realized and produced his glasses from his pocket. The hand accepted these.

The cloth fell daintily. Eddie regarded his work with a bit of pride. Sure, the skin had yellowed as paper would’ve done. And yes, the sutures became more like scars than mendings. But he figured it was better than the alternative — death, of course.

Only barely getting his bearings, Richie blinked slowly. “Where am I?” he croaked.

“Port Town,” Eddie answered.

“Which port town?” 

“Port Town.”

“Yeah, I fucking know it’s a port town, but which one?” Richie shot off a number of curses as he leaned forward in pain. “Fuck, I feel like I just got ran over.”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “I don’t actually know what happened to you, but I wager it was a lot worse than that.”

Richie examined his hand. There were stitches at the phalanges and at the wrist. “You did a bang-up job, Doctor...”

“Kaspbrak.”

“ _Right_.” Richie’s eyes flitted around the unfamiliar territory. “How long have I been out?” 

“Dead, you mean,” Eddie corrected. 

Richie barked out a terrible laugh. “That’s funny. But seriously. How long?”

“Almost a year. You’ve been dead since April, so... welcome back,” Eddie laughed breathlessly.

Richie swung his legs over the table. He nearly tipped forward before Eddie rushed to support him at the hips. 

“You gotta stop with this death joke. I don’t remember dying,” Richie groaned.

“Who would?” Eddie asked.

“I think I would. How do you even know I died? Were you the one who ran over me?” 

He attempted to stand but fell ungraciously into Eddie’s arms. 

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie strained against the weight. “There was no car accident.” 

Eddie pushed him to sit back down for now. Richie begrudgingly obeyed. 

He ran a drowsy hand down his face. “I think I’ve seen you before.” He clasped his hands in his lap. “You’re from the college. You sit with that secret society.”

“How do you know about us?” Eddie panicked.

Richie rolled his eyes as if it were obvious. “My dad’s the fucking Dean. I know all about the Society of Apollos, and the Brotherhood of Plutarch, and the Sisterhood of the Athenes.” 

“Oh. That’s right. Mike mentioned that,” Eddie mumbled.

“I tried not to talk about it. I hated that place. Always felt surrounded by death,” Richie grumbled. “What’s your name again?”

“Edward Kaspbrak. You can call me Eddie.”

“Well, Eds, if you would be so kind as to secure me some rags before I walk outta here like a stiff John Doe after drinking the whole bar, I would appreciate it.” Richie looked Eddie up and down. “Glad you’re enjoying the view, though.”

Eddie turned his gaze away from Richie’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “Of course. Yeah.” 

He hied to the bookshelf, upon which he’d laid some of Ben’s clothes out. He’d “borrowed” these also, this time with approval from the source. They weren’t the flashy kitsch that Richie was used to. Still, they’d have to do for now.

“I’ll be outside,” Eddie said quickly after bestowing the clothes upon Richie.

With the speed of a race car, Eddie dashed out of the door. He slowed his gait to a meandering pace once outside. He made his way to the dock and dangled his legs over its edge. 

The ocean had calmed. Navy waves rolled in and out. The sky cleared as if on account of some softly spoken spell. All seemed well. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie spotted Ben walking along the bow of a nearby ship. He was helping unload something. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before he could escort Eddie home. 

Without any sort of alert to his presence, Richie took a seat beside Eddie. 

While adjusting his tie, Richie gazed out upon the dark horizon. The collared shirt looked good. The khakis not so much. Almost immediately, Eddie found himself missing the gaudy suits Richie wore. 

“Man, it’s been a while since I’ve felt the sea breeze,” Richie sighed in contentment, leaning forward.

Eddie threw a protective arm rightward. “Please try not to die again.”

“You’re really serious about this.” Richie laughed and moved Eddie’s arm. “How could I have died? I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Yeah. On account of me,” Eddie said quietly. 

He didn’t want to brag. He didn’t want Richie to feel beholden to repaying him, either. Well, not openly at least. There was a part of him that figured, well, the indenture of friendship wasn’t too much to ask. 

“Thanks, then.” 

Eddie held his hands in his lap. He watched the beginning roil of the sea as more storm clouds approached. After some time, he felt eyes on him. He looked up at Richie questioningly.

“So how much do I owe you?” Richie asked.

Eddie waved his hands furiously. “Nothing. I don’t want anything.”

Richie grabbed Eddie’s wrists. He kept a steady and determined gaze on him. “Something. There has to be something.”

Blushing more profusely than he would’ve liked, Eddie slipped his wrists out from Richie’s grasp. He looked away at the darkening water. He turned his mind over and over to find some price to offer. He didn’t intend to give him another debt. He hated to sew more strings into his limbs. 

“Ok. How about you tell me something. It’s all I ask,” Eddie promised.

“Sounds good,” Richie nodded.

“Was she worth it?” Eddie whispered, suddenly feeling a wave of... was it jealousy? He couldn’t quite tell what washed over him in the moment. 

What little smile Richie had faded. He became sullen then. Eddie almost felt compelled to backtrack the question. 

“No,” Richie said finally, “he wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. _‘Oh’_.”Richie rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t worth it, but I don’t regret it. I’d say Henry’s still pissed and — “ He smacked his forehead. “Fuck, I just remembered. I gotta skip town.” 

Eddie moved Richie’s hand from his forehead and held it, slowly entwining their fingers. He brushed his other hand over the coronal suture with a tenderness that made Richie’s grimace melt. 

“You can come back to the college with me. Bill’s roommate dropped out first year, so he’s got a spot. I’m sure he wouldn’t care to house you. I should probably keep an eye on you anyway. Make sure you don’t fall apart,” he said with a softness he didn’t know he could manage.

“You’ve already done enough — “

“Beep beep,” Eddie warned. “If I was really looking for something, I would’ve asked by now and you know it.”

Richie smiled softly down at Eddie.

And it almost felt like a normal interaction.

🎙️

  
“Excuse my F-F-French, Eddie, but what in the g-goddamn hell did you do?”

With a smirk, Richie waved at Bill. Eddie nudged his arm down. 

“My submission for the Lifetime Achievement Award,” Eddie answered Bill.

Richie nodded along for a moment, then stared down at Eddie. “Wait, what — “

“You can’t just play g-god like this! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Bill cried. 

Eddie furrowed his brow and wrinkled his nose. “Of course I know. I brought a man back to life. Just like any doctor would.”

“You’re not a doctor, and he was dead for a year. We knew you’d been acting weird, Eddie, but this — “ Bill shook his head at Richie. “This is weird!” 

“Thanks,” Richie quipped. 

“He was dead and buried. He was _dead_!” Bill exclaimed.

“Oh no,” Richie mocked. 

“And I revised that! Bill, all matters of life and death aside, he just needs a place to stay until we graduate, and I can...” Eddie looked down. “Well, I’m not sure where we’ll go, but...”

“Eddie,” Bill moaned. He tapped his foot, ran a hand through his hair, and paced a bit. “Okay. You know what? Since you’ve clearly won the Lifetime Achievement Award fair and square, I’ll harbor him on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Eddie asked.

“No,” Richie said immediately.

Eddie elbowed him in the ribs.

“You have to rescind your s-statements about my review of Mrs. Dalloway,” Bill proposed.

“No,” Richie said again.

Bill flopped down on his bed with the back of his hand against his forehead. “Oh no, Eddie. L-Looks like my dorm room is totally off-limits. I’ll just have to be on the lookout for s-someone who might appreciate the intense thought and deliberation that went into that essay.”

Eddie gestured toward Bill and stared an angry hole up through Richie. 

Richie gave a long and pained sigh. “Fine. I — “ He looked down at Eddie for a bit of pity and evidently found none. He sighed again. “I rescind my statements. I guess you’re not _totally_ pretentious.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Tozier, I never thought I’d see the day when you were finally n-nice to someone,” Bill teased.

“Don’t get used to it.” Richie smirked.

🎙️

  
But since having his death revised, Richie did change his tune rather dramatically. 

Despite being cooped up in the college, he made the most of it. The common room became his new stage. He sauntered around and told jokes with a more positive spin. Now that he could join in on the conversation of the Apollos, he spent less time cutting others down for a quick laugh. It pleased Eddie somewhat, but he missed the grim relish with which Richie could set fire to anyone and everyone’s sails.

Upon learning the tragedy that befell Richie, the Apollos took their drinking habit into the college. On the promise of no questions, Ben provided the liquor. Everything was shaping up.

The warmth of the common room dawned upon Eddie once again. This time, perhaps it was brighter. He’d never heard Ben and Beverly laugh so much. Bill and Mike ribbed right along. Only, Eddie felt it got out of hand every so often. 

See, they’d gotten much closer than he’d ever imagined possible. He and Richie, that is. And Eddie felt his blossoming attraction begin to show itself against his will.

Eddie tried so hard to push Richie away from thinking there was anything there. There couldn’t be anything there. Damnit, it was all so fucked up in so many ways. To have brought someone back to life just to be their... Eddie often cut himself off before he could finish the thought.

Now, they were pushing against each other like tectonic plates. Both seeming to forget how they got here in the first place. It felt so natural. Like Richie had always been there. Like they’d always fought. Like they’d always had an underlying tension.

Under the cover of humid night, Eddie found himself stumbling drowsily into the common area after the other Apollos had long since retired. Richie laid on the couch, fingering through a book. 

Eddie took a seat by Richie’s shoes. Richie laid the book on his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

“When are you going to let me pay you back?” Richie asked. 

“With what kind of money, you dolt?” Eddie scoffed.

“I dunno,” Richie said. “Maybe I’ll masquerade as a dancer at one of the rival speakeasies.” 

“Oh, and you would be a real humdinger, huh?” Eddie murmured.

Richie sat up. “Care to be my first audience?” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie laughed quietly. He rested his cheek on his knuckles. “Besides, you’ve got two left feet.” 

“I could sue you for malpractice, then,” Richie joked.

Eddie raised a brow. “I’d like to see you try.”

Richie stood and walked over to the skeleton on display. He lifted the mount and set it in the middle of the living room. If it weren’t so macabre, Eddie might have laughed. He was pretty interested in seeing where the hell this was going though.  
  
With a smooth glide only Richie Tozier was capable of, he paced the floor a couple times. Then, he stood stick straight in front of the skeleton as if in reverence.

He put an official affectation on his voice, “Your honor, after much deliberation — “

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie questioned.

Richie mimed the zipping of lips. “After much deliberation,” he continued, “I believe I can prove to the jury that Dr. Kaspbrak has committed the crime of malpractice.” He took his glasses off and leaned on the skeleton’s shoulder. “But I’ll need Dr. Kaspbrak to come to the stand first.” 

“You are ridiculous,” Eddie drawled. 

Grabbing the skeleton’s mandible, Richie moved it up and down to mimic speech. “Dr. Kaspbrak to the stand, please,” he said in a nasally voice.

With a sigh of frustration, Eddie stood with his hands on his hips. Richie seemed to examine every detail of him like he’d never seen the sweater vest or the wingtips in his life. Eddie could’ve sworn he’d seen the mischief in Richie’s eyes replaced by something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it though.

Waltzing across the room, Richie set the phonograph to play a swinging tune. It was light on its feet with piano, but played its brass full steam ahead. Mike might’ve mentioned it being a Ted Lewis. Eddie nearly asked Richie to turn it off — it was much too loud, and he always hated the crooning. And yet, it was so deliciously scandalous. As the record spun along, he found he really didn’t care much at all, actually.

“Do you know the Lindy Hop?” Richie asked, excitedly skipping back to the middle of the room.

“No,” Eddie said as he passed behind him. “I know the foxtrot. But dancing’s for couples.”

“Dancing’s for anybody!” Richie exclaimed as he ran toward Eddie. He lifted him up into the air by the waist and spun him around. 

“Be careful — don’t strain yourself, boltneck,” Eddie warned once firmly on the ground.

Richie began a hopping motion that nearly resembled dancing. He spun, and kicked, and shook his hands. “Well, your honor, maybe I don’t have two left feet — “

“You most certainly do,” Eddie cut in.

“ — but let’s see if the good doctor over here might,” Richie said taking Eddie’s hand and spinning him around like in a tango. “By Jove, I think he’s got it.”

They split and buzzed about like bees, each keeping time to the tune in their own way. Richie was energetic and electrifying as always. He made as many jittery movements as the measure would allow. Eddie preferred a more laid-back style, only hitting the necessary beats on the song’s signature. 

Then, they came together in a foxtrot, as it was all Eddie knew how to do. But Richie was dead set on spinning Eddie out from and into his arms. They parted every so often to watch each other move. But for Eddie at least, there was a loneliness in that. Only the warmth of the other body could fill the void. 

“C’mon, Eds. Keep up,” Richie laughed breathily. He was doing some weird motion like he was running-in-place. 

“‘Eds’... always ‘Eds’ with you. Why not ‘Eddie’? ‘Eds’ is so informal,” Eddie complained. 

He dragged the tip of his shoe around in a circle like he’d seen in ballet. Then, he retreated backward, causing Richie to chase him forward. He delighted in that cat-and-mouse feeling.

“We’re friends. That’s about as informal as it gets,” Richie said as-a-matter-of-factly. 

“No, there’s more informalities to be sure.”

“To be sure,” Richie agreed. “Oh!” He dipped Eddie backward just out of the way of the skeleton. He smiled down at him. “We’re friends, Eds.” 

“The way we curse each other?” Eddie pointed out as Richie let go of him.

“Friends curse,” Richie said simply. “And with a mouth like mine, I can rile Stan up like a cock in the morning. I saw him the other day, by the way.”

Eddie’s smile soured. “Oh,” he uttered.

“And I didn’t mean that in the pejorative sense. I can see your clenched undergarments from here. You’re free to interpret it how you like though,” Richie amended. “I know I shouldn’t be sneaking out of the college or anything, but I thought I might track good ol’ Stan down. Check up on him.”

“How is he?” 

“Same old Stan. He seemed happy to see me. Asked if I woke up with goat’s blood on me, can you believe it?”

“I don’t believe in the occult,” Eddie stated as Richie grabbed for his hands. 

Eddie managed to lead him back into a foxtrot, but Richie quickly gained the upper hand and jerked them around into a near dizzy mess. They stopped mid-dance. Eddie’s back rested against Richie’s chest. He sighed contentedly. There was a quaint joy in it. 

Then, at the crash of a cymbal, they started again, dancing side-to-side, keeping their positions against one another. Eddie didn’t need to see Richie’s face to know he grinned from ear to ear. He could feel his smile against his cheek. Eddie leaned into it. It was simple; it was bliss.

Spinning Eddie back out, Richie continued the conversation, “I don’t believe much in the occult either, but it’s a fair assumption. You know, men don’t just get up and walk outta their graves everyday. Not with two left feet anywa — ah!” 

Eddie tripped over the skeleton mount’s edge. He fell onto Richie, and they fell onto the couch. Realizing this, he hurried to get up off him, but was stopped by a strong grip. Richie held him there by the hips. 

“Richie — “

“Don’t treat me like a fragile object,” Richie demanded. “You put me back together once. Is it so selfish of me to think you could do it again?”

“No, but — “

“I won’t break, Eds. I promise,” Richie said softly.

Eddie stared at him indignantly. “Okay,” he settled. 

“Okay,” Richie repeated.

“Okay,” Eddie said again, firmer.

“So when are we gonna make like flowers and put our two l — “

Eddie pulled Richie up by the throat, bolts like hooks between his fingers. At the promise of being unbreakable, Eddie took free rein to kiss him as hard as he possibly could. It felt so natural. Like it was just another step to foxtrotting. 

Kissing Richie was like singing the body electric. It was almost like wires remained clamped to those bolts, charging his move to pull Eddie onto his full-spread pride. Like Shelley’s creation, he possessed a power that was rough and uncouth, unlike anything Eddie ever felt. It was all in the way he ran his hands up through Eddie’s shirt. The way he made Eddie rake his nails down his back. The way he clutched Eddie’s hip as they grinded in 4/4 time.

The stubble on Richie’s face didn’t bother Eddie as much as he thought it would’ve. He’d imagined this moment more times than he would’ve liked to admit, and this part gave him the most trepidation. But it was nice — coarse, yes, but it felt different. Made him feel alive. He strayed from pressing into it as much as possible though, preferring to let Richie tease his lower lip. 

Richie pulled Eddie up further, creating a friction like waves against a ship. Eddie clung to Richie’s shoulders for dear life as Richie marked his throat. Eddie effused a sharp gasp as Richie closed in on his neck’s pulse. It only served to make Richie go in rougher.

“Damn,” Eddie breathed out as Richie ran his tongue over his neck. “If you were any rougher, I’d mistake you for sandpaper.”

“You’re into it though,” Richie said against Eddie.

Eddie huffed. “Of course I am.” He leaned forward into a long moan as Richie slipped his hand under his pants, fingers hooking onto him. “Cheap shot,” Eddie whispered harshly in his ear. 

“I take what I can get,” Richie moaned into Eddie’s mouth, coming back up to prove... what? That he could stroke and tongue him at the same time? Whatever. Eddie wasn’t complaining. 

“You are so tense,” Richie mumbled against Eddie’s jaw.

“You would be too if you had to bear witness to whatever the hell is going on between Bill, Ben, and Beverly for the past four years,” Eddie muttered. 

“What the hell _is_ going on between those three?” 

“Please refrain from talking about the sex lives of other parties while we’re in the middle of... this.”

Richie muffled a laugh under Eddie’s chin. “Okay, Professor. Allow me to turn to page three,” he said, giving Eddie a jerk and earning a sharp cry of pleasure. “And besides, you brought them up.”

“Whatever, just get me off before — “ Richie pressed his lips into Eddie’s, cutting him off before he could eke out his warning. 

Richie increased his speed, chasing the moans that Eddie let out every four beats. Eddie entrenched his fingers in Richie’s hair, riding the steadily rising half note beneath him. Eventually it all crescendoed, and Eddie found himself shaking, ragged in Richie’s arms. 

The phonograph croaked out its last note. 

🎙️

  
The dorm room was silent. 

Bill stood outside the door, arms crossed, patiently watching Eddie work. He’d screamed when he saw it. Richie’s arm just sitting there in the middle of the floor. Richie laughed it off. Laughed most things off. But this had been happening more and more often.

Richie was fragile. There was no way around it. Eddie didn’t want to believe it, but he was. Everything Eddie had feared had finally reared its ugly head. But Eddie pressed on with repairs, unwilling to let go of his greatest achievement.

“Try not to pull it too tight this time,” Richie said, eyes bouncing up and down, following Eddie’s needle. 

“I have to pull it tight or else this’ll happen again. I shouldn’t have listened to you last time,” Eddie grumbled.

“It felt better loose,” Richie complained.

Eddie sighed. He set down the needle and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you want to come with me to Massachusetts?”

“Of course, Eds.”

“Well, I can’t have your arm falling off in the streets of Harvard, can I?” 

Richie recoiled slightly. Eddie bit his lip, realizing he’d given his word more bark than he’d meant to. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” 

Eddie sucked in air through his teeth. He laser-focused on his sewing. Almost felt like he was breathing to the tempo of the needle.

Richie looked past Eddie. As he kept up his sewing rhythm, Eddie tried not to think about it. Until Richie squinted, Eddie didn’t give him a second glance. 

“Bill, this is pretty fucking intimate, y’know!” Richie said as loudly as he could muster.

Bill threw his hands up and left the doorway. Eddie chuckled.

“It is kind of intimate,” he begrudgingly agreed.

Richie raised his brows. “It’s _very_ intimate, Eds. We’re talking man-on-man here. Mano y mano. Needle in skin. In and _out_ of skin, if you catch my drift. Piercing, pressing, cresting the waves of sweet, sinewy flesh.”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

🎙️

  
Taking it all in, Eddie stood in the middle of his dorm. It was breathtaking, really. The gold, the stature, the poise... it was a trophy befitting a king. Bathed in the gold of morning, the trophy towered above him on its perch upon the bookshelf.

_The Lifetime Achievement Award._

Eddie could hardly believe Ben had managed to put it together. The man was good with his hands. Or, so he’d heard. Really, it was the work of an artisan — even more so, it was a work made for an artisan.

Artisan of what, exactly? Oh, just the art of necromancy. A smirk tended to lift Eddie’s lips when he remembered the feat which had brought Richie back to life. It certainly did bargain an award which almost seemed to stand just as high as Eddie.

Necromancy was no longer a work of fiction. If a little nontraditional, it was a work of art — of medicine — of science — of — 

A knock alerted Eddie to a presence at his door. He turned away from the trophy. Richie leaned against the doorframe, a smile perking his lips.

“What’s that about?” Eddie beamed in kind.

Head up as always, Richie sauntered in. He took Eddie’s hands in his and spun him around, despite the lack of music in the air. “Just thinking about the cobbler your mom dropped off the other day.”

“I would hope you’re not going where I think you are,” Eddie muttered, going limp in Richie’s arms.

“Give Sonia my regards, if you will,” Richie hummed. He leaned down to kiss his cheek. “And that, too.”

Miming a retch, Eddie unwrapped himself from Richie. “You can be such an ass.”

“But you love me anyway,” Richie singsonged.

Eddie took a seat on his bed, posing like _The Thinker_. He liked watching Richie watch him. The stillness of it all held a serenity that almost seemed to contradict the thunder and lightning that brought them back to each other. When he thought about it, sometimes he liked the silence more than the banter.

And now that he had his thinking face on, he realized the trophy didn’t seem as glitzy. The trophy’s value became minuscule when compared to Richie’s entire existence. All that he was before and all he became after was Eddie’s everything. He lived for every moment they spent together. He treasured it more than any award. 

Richie grinned down at Eddie. “So what are you smiling for?” 

Eddie caught himself and shook his head. “It’s... it’s nothing, sorry.” He cleared his throat and put on a more neutral face.

“So you’re allowed to smile for no reason, but when I do it, there’s gotta be something behind it?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, smile police. Lock me up.” Richie presented his wrists with a smirk. Eddie couldn’t help but burst out laughing. 

He smiled. Sincerely, he smiled. He couldn’t remember how long it had been before Richie that that had happened. Entirely too long, he supposed, and he never wanted to go another day without it. 

Necromancy was no longer a work of fiction. It was a work of love. 

🎙️

  
Even still, Eddie wondered what made him different from the cultists who claimed the ability to do the same. It felt like just yesterday that Beverly had slammed the paper down on the common room table, ranting about the necromancing rituals that had been recorded. Maybe it was yesterday. Eddie hadn’t kept track of time since the storm. 

In the steely cold of a clear night, Eddie sat outside in the commons. He let the white smoke trail out from the sides of his mouth. 

Thinking about the storm made his blood run cool. Only the warmth of the blaze against his lips seemed to help. There were other warmths too, but those acts didn’t come without the reminders. Every touch drew his eyes toward the sutures he’d sewn. Every kiss made his stomach churn at the idea of how badly he could’ve fucked it all up if he made just one mistake.

Maybe it was a mistake. 

Could anyone have blamed him for thinking so? Especially when Richie was falling apart — literally at the seams. 

And if anything got out beyond the Apollos, so too did his secrets of necromancy. Though he preferred his scientific method to the blood and gore of the cults, he wasn’t so sure that he wanted his fears replicated. What he had with Richie was special. He supposed it couldn’t really ever be replicated at all.

Eddie took another drag. Tensing as he sensed a body sit beside him, he held his knees and exhaled shakily.

“Go back inside. I know the Dean goes on night strolls around here. If he saw you, I — “ Anxiety spiking, Eddie stopped to take a drag. Didn’t feel like it helped much. “I could go to jail for grave robbery a-and malpractice — not to mention the stolen property from the college.” 

Richie hunched his shoulders. “I know why you’re all weird, Eds. I get it. I mean, people start acting weird once...”

Gaping at him, Eddie shook his head. “No... No, Richie. No, I’ve always wanted to — “

He held up a hand. “If you’d let me finish.” Richie threw an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling Eddie into a tender headlock. “I’ve been through this before. People fuck in front of a skeleton once and all of a sudden things get weird. I know.”

Eddie sighed with a slight chuckle. 

“Can’t tell you how many eyeless oglers there were down in those smuggling tunnels,” Richie drawled overexaggeratedly. He held a hand over his forehead. “All those eye sockets. I can never forget.”

“Richie, I’m not acting weird because we fucked in front of Hockstetter,” Eddie asserted.

“It has a name?” 

“Well — “ Eddie took a quick drag. “ — yeah. That was a guy at some point.”

Richie drew a sharp breath and exhaled. “I thought it was fake. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Now _I_ feel weird.”

“Can we just get back to the subject?” Eddie begged.

“No.”

“Richie — “

“Maybe I just wanted to feel the fresh air!” Richie pointed out. He looked down. “Maybe I just wanted to talk with you. Alone. Or...” Richie shrugged, annoyed. “... maybe I just don’t want to hear Bill rave about The Great Gatsby.”

Pulling him closer, Eddie slid his arm around Richie’s hip. That _was_ a predicament. No-one should ever have to hear Bill go on a long and drawn out rant against a bestseller. He could go until the sun came up. Judging by his current fervor, he’d probably be talking about it for the next week.

Eddie smiled gently. “He’s just upset because he wishes he could be the Jay Gatsby to Beverly’s Daisy.”

“Who wants to be dead? Rich or not.” 

Looking up at Richie, Eddie furrowed his brow. 

Richie hummed. “You know I appreciate what you did. If it weren’t for you, I’d be... well... _I don’t know._ And I think... I think that’s what scares me most.” He slid a hand over Eddie’s thigh and gleamed down at him. “And anyway, we’re the real Jay and Daisy of the society.”

“Daisy left Jay for Tom,” Eddie pointed out. 

“Eddie, I fell asleep halfway through Bill’s rant. I can’t be expected to remember everything,” he moaned. 

“Okay, but why not give it a read yourself? I mean, it’s all a really interesting critique of the American Dream and — “ 

The sound of a snore cut him off. He grimaced upward. Richie’s head had fallen backwards with his mouth wide open. Eddie rolled his eyes and flicked ash.

Half-lidded, Richie looked forward. He raised a brow at Eddie. “Wake me up when Tom and Daisy have half the sexual tension that Nick and Jay do.”

“Oh, so you paid attention to that?” Eddie laughed.

Closing his eyes, Richie laid his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “You don’t have to write a twenty page essay to tell me that Nick wanted the package. I mean the _whole_ package. Convince me otherwise, Eds.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you, but I’m sure Bill would have some gripes with that theory,” Eddie noted.

“Bill has gripes with everything, up to and including the reason why the sky is blue,” Richie snickered. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Eddie laughed. 

He flicked his last bit of ash and stomped the flames of his discarded cigarette out. In a gingerly motion, he nestled his cheek against Richie’s shoulder. 

A hush fell over them, giving the floor to the nightly ambience. The wind had nothing to say.

Eddie readjusted his position against Richie, clinging tighter. A pit of guilt had formed in his stomach, gnawing at him since Richie had come around. He needed him to be there to quell it, and yet. “You know you don’t have to be... around me,” he said quietly. 

In the distance, a wolf howled. A cricket chirped. And a frog croaked. Yet, Richie didn’t speak until Eddie craned his neck to look up at him, eyes waiting and desperate for a reply.

Even then, Richie kept his eyes pointed forward, brow knitted. He made an unintelligible noise and shifted so that Eddie leaned away from him. He didn’t seem to notice Eddie’s loosening grip on his waist. Or, if he did, he did nothing about it.

Richie heaved a sigh. “Listen, Eds. I don’t hang around you because I feel like I owe you. The moment you told me I didn’t owe you shit, I was ready to run with it and get outta dodge. I’ve had like a hundred low-key places scoped out around Derry since I dropped out. But...” He shrugged. “I guess something stopped me. Maybe...” He smiled mischievously. “...maybe I just got seduced by your adorable pink cheeks,” he teased, pinching Eddie’s cheek.

“Stop!” Eddie laughed. He playfully pushed Richie’s hand away, but couldn’t rid himself of the smile it’d left. 

“Make me!” Richie dared, ruffling Eddie’s hair. 

Eddie hated it, but damn if he didn’t want Richie to keep poking and prodding him. Had he really been so touch-starved? He supposed there had been a loneliness that gnawed at him since boycotting the bar. It always felt like Richie directed just jokes at him. He was the only one who really paid attention, after all. That was what Stan had said...

The more Stan’s words swirled around in Eddie’s mind, the warmer he felt. Richie pulled him close again. And it seemed for now that the storm laid at bay. 

🎙️

  
But not for long.

Thunderclouds rolled in the night before graduation. The clashes of rivaling storms echoed through the halls of Deus. Lightning illuminated every window. No one could get a word in edgewise without the sudden bursts of rain interrupting them.

Bill had called the society into the common room to hear his valedictorian speech. Richie and Eddie sat on one couch with Beverly and Ben on the opposite. Mike leaned against the mantle, sometimes glancing warily at Hocksetter in the corner. 

Midnight came and went, and Bill still stood front and center reciting the speech over and over. He paced the floor, trying to allow himself some elbow room to adlib. The rest of the society attempted to give pointers, but found themselves flailing just as badly as Bill. 

Richie didn’t help much at all, interrupting him more than the next crash of a tree branch outside. Bill kept going stubbornly, even as disparaging as it could be sometimes. 

“If you would just pin your shoulders back and speak from the heart, you wouldn’t be having such a bad time,” Mike advised. “What are you scared of?”

“Not sounding smart,” Richie suggested snidely. 

“Well, yes, actually,” Bill admitted. He ran a hand through his hair. “How did you get on that stage and j-j-just talk about n-nonsense?”

“It’s called not giving a shit, Bill,” Richie answered.

“I can’t just not give a shit.”

“You can try by taking that stick out of your ass,” Richie quipped. 

Bill gave a disgruntled cough. He paced a bit, eyes focused on the paper. “I’m giving this speech in front of the Dean and the staff and the rest of the student body and — “ He stopped and put his hands on his hips. “ — a-and, Richie, I guess it’s just not as s-similar to your stuff at The Eager Beaver as I th-thought.” 

Richie stood from his seat on the couch. “Here, Bill, give me the speech. I can give you better pointers if you let me read it.”

Suddenly, Bill clammed up, stepping back. “I don’t think that’ll be n-n-necessary.”

“Don’t be daft. You’re looking at the maestro of improv. Just give it here,” Richie pursued, walking Bill toward the fireplace.

Finding his back right against the mantle, Bill attempted to dash around Richie. With a quick turn and slight of hand, Richie picked the speech out of Bill’s grasp. He unfolded it with a flick of the wrist. A couple snickers left his lips. Finally he turned around and cleared his throat.

“So I see what’s made you so nervous,” he said.

Bill clenched his fists at his sides. “Richie — “

Richie gave a quick flick of his brows. “Well, it’s just... it’s pretty cute, I gotta say.”

“It’s not cute, it’s just... well, she’s important to me,” Bill rubbed his neck.

“More than important,” Richie mumbled, scratching his head. His eyes danced across the page with interest. “Sounds like you have a crush on her.”

Bill twiddled his fingers. “Well, don’t you have a crush on Eddie?”

Richie snapped his head up from the paper. “What?”

Eddie went rigid as did the rest of the society. He covered his mouth, hoping nothing would come out. No indication that Bill was correct in any way. He could feel everyone’s neverending stares. He patted his pockets and found nothing there. He’d forgotten his cigarettes. Damnit. Damnit, his throat felt like it was closing. They knew now. They knew why he won that award. _How could he be so selfish? So selfish_. That’s what they were thinking. Had to be. 

Bill dashed forward. “Wait — I forgot, Richie. I’m so so s-sorry. It’s not my place to s-say that.”

“No,” Richie said coldly. “It’s not.” 

He pressed the paper into Bill’s chest and turned heel toward the dormitories. All eyes trailed him with only Eddie actually hopping up to give chase. With Richie glaring over his shoulder, Eddie found himself frozen in his tracks. 

Richie trudged on until he reached the hallway. Then, as if taken by rigor mortis, he collapsed. 

_“RICHIE!”_ Eddie screeched, hieing to his side. “Richie, Richie, please...” he cried, shaking his shoulders. No response. Why was there no response? He pressed two fingers against his neck. No pulse. No pulse...

Damnit. Damnit. Damnit all to hell.

🎙️

  
Driving in the rain was never a good idea. Eddie had already turned the Nash into a smokebox by the time they’d made it out of Derry. He hated the thrashing of the rain and wind against the car, threatening to whisk it away from the road and into the mud and thistle. Every now and then, a bright flash of white blinded Ben, throwing the car into a state of disarray as he swerved and Eddie fired off a series of curses.

Sometimes Eddie thought he heard Richie stir in the backseat. Unfortunately, it was just a trick of the Nash’s rocking against the harsh weather. His heart leapt when he thought he saw the body move, but it sank lower than the depths of the ocean when he realized, no. It hadn’t. 

Would it ever again? Was his revival of Richie only a one-hit wonder? Eddie took an extra long drag every time the thought entered his head. He coughed and sputtered afterward, but it felt worth it to burn out the thought.

Mostly, he tried to focus on the society’s response to the occurrence. Beverly slid over to his side, kissing his forehead and enveloping him in a tight hug. Though he wanted desperately to claw out of her grasp to hold Richie’s limp body in his arms, Ben had him covered. He lifted the man with ease, already knowing to rush him to the Nash. Bill stammered something awful that Eddie wished he was in the right mind to listen to and assure him that everything was alright. Mike took care of that. All in all, Eddie found his fears quelled as his friends formed the supportive net he needed.

Upon arriving to Port Town, Ben hurried to haul Richie’s body to the hovel where it all began. Eddie nearly slipped along the docks after him. 

After putting Richie’s body on the table and lighting the lantern, Ben gave Eddie a look of “good luck” and took his leave. 

Eddie stood by the door for what felt like an eternity. He dug around in his pocket and produced one final cigarette. He took a long puff, collected himself, and drew close to Richie’s still body.

“So, I know this is really late. Sorry about that.” Eddie held the cigarette precariously between his teeth as he found the clamps to attach to Richie’s bolts. Eddie blew smoke over his shoulder and flicked ash away from him. “But I guess you need to hear this just in case I never see you again.” 

He fanned the white bedcloth over Richie, letting it fall over him delicately. Then, he exhaled smoke again. “Ever since I first saw you on that stage, I’ve been... enamored. You have a way with words that’s always annoyed me. At the start, I think I hated it a lot. And yet, you intrigued me. I wanted to know what you’d say next.” 

Eddie pulled a chair up and took another drag. “When I’d look around, everyone was so preoccupied with their own conversation, or else, drinking themselves toward an early grave. You’d look at me sometimes. You had to see my reddened expression at the punchline. Did you relish in it?” Eddie shook his head. “Don’t answer that.” 

The rain pounded against the brick exterior of the hovel with a force not unnatural of Zeus’ oppressive divinity. Eddie gave a quick glance to the window. Damnit, if he could just spare a couple lightning bolts...

“Well,” Eddie continued, “anyway, I liked you a lot. It didn’t really occur to me until a few months ago that... that was what it was. Not until you came back and you really... you really liked me. And I don’t know why. I don’t understand it. Is it because I brought you back to life? Is it because I’m easy to poke fun at?”

Eddie stood, not of his own accord but of some intense need to shout that couldn’t be done sitting down. Anxiety swelled in his chest. “What is it, Richie Tozier? _Why do you love me?”_ he cried. 

Not a moment later, the hovel exploded in a flash of light that enveloped everything. Eddie stumbled backward against his chair, falling on his back. His head hit the concrete, and he was out.

🎙️

  
Groggily, Eddie opened his eyes to half-lidded position. He tilted his head up only barely. A pounding feeling in the back of his skull kept him from going all the way. He was still in supine, and he couldn’t tell exactly who was leaning over him.

He did, however, notice the clamp on his finger which nearly began to cut off his circulation. He yanked it off, drawing more blood than he would’ve liked and scrambled to his feet. Lightning flashed outside, bathing the hovel in white light again. One more second and he would’ve been fried. 

The figure that leaned over him now sat on the table. Oh god. Oh god, it was Richie. Eddie huffed a breath of relief. Time stood still as he took in Richie’s relatively unchanged appearance and clearly breathing body. Eddie threw himself at Richie, tossing his arms around his neck and allowing himself to cry there. He stood back after a few good tears, but continued to wipe at his eyes.

“I was only gone for like, a minute, sheesh,” Richie soothed. 

“Don’t ever fucking do that again,” Eddie demanded shakily. “I had to weather the storm of the fucking century to get your ass here. And then I wake up and you’re fucking trying to shock me back to life and nearly fucking kill me.” Changing his tone slightly, Eddie laughed breathlessly. “If I don’t end up dead by thirty hanging around you, then I’ll just have to find a way to marry you and seal my fate forever.”

“And that is precisely why I love you,” Richie said, hopping off the table to press a kiss against Eddie’s temple. 

A stupidly wavy and wide smile spread across Eddie’s face. His brows were upturned in adoration.

“I love you too.”

🎙️

  
Eventually, they got an apartment together in Massachusetts. A cute little set up in the middle of Harvard. Just a one bedroom with a kitchenette. Nobody seemed to mind the idea of Richie and Eddie sharing it. The town was busy and breezy, and the people didn’t give second glances like in Derry. 

Richie chided Eddie for making the apartment look like his grandmother’s house, but all the furniture came inherited from his mother. Eddie reminded Richie that he didn’t have that doctor money yet. He still had the end of his residency ahead of him. 

In the meantime, they got by, and Richie found a new friend in makeup to cover his stitches. He was back out in the bars, performing his standup like he always had. Now that prohibition had ended, things got a little easier.

Surrounded by the comfort of Richie and their home, Eddie felt his anxiety largely melted away. Still, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder every now and then. For whatever reason, new fear of a pursuing hooded figure had cropped up in his mind. Richie excused it as a woman in a plain dress that he’d seen out of the corner of his eye. Eddie felt content to believe that. But he didn’t. Not really. 

Eddie didn’t take the Lifetime Achievement Award with him to Harvard. It felt good to leave it behind. He was in a place now where he didn’t have to think of the concept of necromancy. 

Instead, he was free to foxtrot with Richie to Ozzie Nelson on the phonograph. And they’d foxtrot long into the night. Without a worry. Without the stress of the occult. 

And as the years flew by, Eddie would forget how long it had been since his nights at the speakeasy.

🎙️

🎙️

**Author's Note:**

> would it be one of my fics if it didnt have art at the end. lmao follow my tumblr @thatonepieceofart to like it and other reddie art lol
> 
> next will be Sweet Bod which should be exponentially better bc as i've learned, i'm much better with Richie's POV haha.


End file.
